17. Durham
CC
Site
April
21st - 24th
About forty
miles here from Stokesley, where I had been staying with my nephew
and his family. The route took me up the A19, right through the
middle of Teesside with its quaint industrial architecture. I was
very early to book-in, so went further up the
A1(M) to Washington,
where I used to work in the 'Seventies and 'Eighties. Our three
factories, which were brand new in 1974, are all derelict, as is most
of the industrial estate around them. The only businesses flourishing
were Makro, the wholesaler to the small shop-keeper and Kuehne and
Nagel, the shippers. Thanks to Thatcher that's our economy now,
discounting stuff other people have made and sending it somewhere
else. This area was the land of Parsons, Vickers and Austin and
Pickersgill, heavy engineering and shipbuilding to go with the
coal-mining. The road sign announcing Washington said “Welcome to
the original Washington”. Nice one.
I I also popped in to
Chester-le-Street and had a look at Durham's county cricket ground,
the Riverside Stadium, which now promises to be a regular test
cricket site. It's wonderful, very impressive and nicely done,
unobtrusive and in a lovely setting of parkland and lots of trees
right by the River Wear (pronounced “Weir”, by the way). It
looked as if there was a match on to-day, so I might go and watch
tomorrow if it's a bit warmer.
Talking of
coal-mining, I changed the bedding in the van to-day. It's a terrible
job, as you have to climb the ladder into the space over the cab and
struggle on your knees with sheets, pillows and the duvet with about
two feet of headroom. Two feet of headroom is fine for sleeping, but
is very tight for crawling around. It's a good job I change the linen
only once a year. Just kidding!
Oh God, I've just
found out that the Durham cricket ground is called “The Emirates
Stadium”. Does that mean a fatwah will descend on my head? Oh no,
so much to do, so little time.
 |
| The Sanctuary Knocker |
 |
| Durham Cathedral |
Heavy rain this
morning, the first for quite some time. A change of plan was
indicated. No Durham/Somerset cricket for me to-day. Instead I walked
to the Belmont Park and Ride and caught the bus into the city. To get
to the bus stop I had to cross two slip-roads of the A1(M), which
wasn't nice. At times like this you realise how few, how very few,
motorists indicate their intentions at roundabouts. In my new trim
shape, however, I was lightning off the blocks.
On arriving in the
city I asked the driver where I could catch the bus back. “I'll
show you”, he said, and got out of the bus to show me where the
stop was. This is the sort of thing which almost makes life worth living.
The day was cold with intermittent torrential rain and I had
forgotten my camera, so I limited myself to food shopping and
checking out the bus station. I did, however, see the awesome sight,
surely the finest in urban Britain, of the castle and the cathedral
looming over the river Wear from Framwellgate Bridge. I shall
remember my camera tomorrow. Fool!
I found “The
Shakespeare”, a great old single-frontage pub dating from 1109 and
consisting of two tiny bars. They used to serve draught (i.e. real)
Newcastle Exhibition, rarer than hens' teeth. It was nicknamed
“Execution” (not “Journey into Space”, that was Newcastle
Brown Ale) and was absolutely lethal. Ah, the happy highways where I
went and cannot come again, my salad days when I was green in
judgement (and very often around the gills, too). It's being
refurbished and guess when the refurbishment started; yes, you got
it, the day before I arrived. I was only going to take a photo,
anyway, honestly your honour.
Pleasant sunny day
(Wednesday); walked into the city along the river, about three miles.
Absolutely beautiful, through
woods with a carpet of
wood anemone and wild garlic and a woodpecker banging away over my
head like John Humphreys at a politician. Had a good look round the
cathedral, but my enthusiasm has waned. It used to be my favourite,
but now, having seen so many other examples, I find it rather butch
and brutalist. It really suits Durham, though, which was the seat of
the Prince Bishops. These were the Bishops of Durham who were given
special powers by the Crown which allowed them to do pretty much what
they wanted, which in those days normally meant imprisoning,
torturing, murdering and expropriating anybody and anything they
chose. These saintly clerics were pretty tough fellows in those days;
the Archbishop of York led the English army against the Scots at
Northallerton in the Battle of the Standard in 1138, having said that
it was God's work to withstand the Scots (no comment). I can imagine
Rowan Williams riding at the head of an army with beard and hair
flowing and looking like Gandalf on Shadowfax, but this new Welby
bloke looks a bit of a wuss. When you enter County Durham the sign
says “County Durham – Land of the Prince Bishops”. This can be
translated as “Abandon hope all ye who enter here” or “Keep
your hand on your wallet” and is the equivalent of “Welcome to
the Land of the Russian Mafia Oligarchs”.
 |
| The castle and cathedral and Framwellgate Bridge |
Extended heavy
rainstorm in the night, the noise on the roof preventing me from
sleeping for three hours. Desperate straits; I have no book to read
as my trawl of charity shops in Durham drew a blank yesterday. I must
say I've never seen a university city with such a paucity of
bookshops. I was desperate enough to consider buying a new book and
went into Waterstone's. It's pathetically small and almost the whole
of the ground floor is taken up by “university merchandise”,
fleeces, sweatshirts, mugs, scarves, etc. everywhere. I'm a simple
soul and expect a bookshop to have books. I left muttering oaths. I
even considered looking in W H Smith, but managed to stop myself. It
might have triggered a heart attack or a violent rage. My hopes rest
on the charity shops of Sunderland.
Great
bus ride to Sunderland from Durham. At West Rainton, a pretty former
pit village, a sign saying “No Opencast Mine Here”. Is that
ironic? Not sure, but it's something or other. From East Rainton, a
not so pretty former pit village, a splendid view of the Penshaw
Monument above Washington. This
70 foot high folly is a replica of the Temple of Hephaestus (the
Greek Vulcan) in Athens and can be seen for miles around. It is
considered to be Wearside's most beloved landmark, even appearing on
the badge of Sunderland Football Club. Through
Rainton Business Park, where one huge block might have been the HQ of
NPower and another had a sign saying “Sunderland Software City”.
Coming into Sunderland, on the left a pub called “The Board”. I
thought it a strange name and wondered what the pub sign was; a
plank? I found out on the way back and it was a chess board with a
game set-up. Nice. On the right, St. Chad's church; there are lots of
St. Chads in the North but I can't remember having seen any down
South. Then a large house with a sign announcing “The Home of Life
Transformational Dentistry”. What a fantastic boast! Then, last
but not least, a long single storey building with a verandah the
length of the front, two old lads reading their papers on it and a
sign saying “Aged Miners' Home”. Brilliant!
The previous time I
had gone to Sunderland was via Hylton Castle and alongside the Wear
and by the shipyards. I think I'm right in saying Sunderland had the
largest shed for building a ship entirely under cover. In 1978, 7,500
people worked in the yards, but within ten years the last yard had
closed. Because the river isn't wide enough, they used to launch new
ships beam-on rather than stern-on, which is quite unusual.
I was thinking about
this when unfortunately I arrived. I'm sorry to be so harsh, but
Sunderland is a disastrous mess. It's the ugliest place I've ever
seen since I went to Consett in 1975. As usual, I went to the Tourist
Information office to get a street map. It was in the council offices
and was a table with a few leaflets on it. The man at reception told
me the office had been closed. There wasn't a street map. I asked “Do
they not want anyone to come here, then?” He laughed in a really
sad way. It was awful and I went away with a heavy heart. The sad
thing about the whole mess was that there were some very impressive
buildings in the wide and rather dignified main street, five storeys,
stone and with lots of nice Victorian frilly bits. They were good
enough to be in Regent Street or the King's Road. Unfortunately the
shops on their ground floors were boarded-up. I took a photo of an
atrocious Poundland. Well, at least the football team is not the
worse thing about Sunderland.
The only good thing
about the Tourist Information Table was a book for sale about
Sunderland Football Club with, on its cover, the club's great
Republic of Ireland centre-half Charlie Hurley. With his film-star
looks, tackle that would stop a rhinoceros in full charge, commanding
aerial presence and silky footballing skills, unique for a
centre-half in the 1950's and 1960's, Hurley was the hero of
Wearside. He was also the hero of my English teacher in the third
form, Jerry Hanratty, who was from Jarrow just up the road. I took a
full-page colour photo of Hurley from “Football Monthly” into
school. Jerry was delirious and stuck it up on the wall of the
classroom. What a creep I was, but I got a really good report that
year. Jerry used to call me “Basil”.
Now, about UKIP and
their campaign poster. There are 26 million unemployed in the EU, 2
million of them in the UK. Any of the 24 million
can come to the UK to seek work. We have no idea how many will come;
indeed we have no idea how many have come already. The benefits? More
freely available cheap labour. The costs? Additional strain upon the
infrastructure, upon the health, housing, education and transport
systems. So cui bono? Owners, employers and capitalists and the
government will use the benefits of cheap labour to depress wages.
Since themselves they have the means to buy health insurance, their
own houses, to send their children to private schools, since they do
not use public transport and can afford to employ cheap domestic
servants, there will be no down side for them. For the rest of us,
the costs will be longer waiting lists in hospitals and for a GP
appointment, higher house prices and rents, longer waiting lists for
social housing, bigger school classes, more crowded roads and slower
journeys and further delays on the railways.
No-one is suggesting that
24 million unemployed will come to the UK from Europe. No-one is
saying that immigration should be halted. UKIP propose a system which
Australia and the US operated for years and I can't recall their
having been accused of racism. Identify shortfalls in the labour
force and welcome people, from whatever country, who can fill these
gaps, giving preference to those who have good English and clean
personal records.
This is not racism,
but simple economic and social planning. On Radio Four this morning
was a discussion. A New Labour spokesman said UKIP's campaign poster
was racist. The UKIP man accused New Labour of “closing-off the
discussion” by playing the racism card. So many discussions of this
nature over the years have been closed-off by the playing of the
racism card. We must be able to discuss these issues frankly and
honestly and we cannot allow the discussions to be stifled by
political correctness.
Phew! I needed that.
On the way to my next
stop I'll be passing “The Angle of the North”, the Anthony
Gormley statue at Gateshead of one of the Anglo-Saxons who invaded
Britain in the Dark Ages. As you can see, they were quite large and
could fly, which made them formidable opponents for the
Romano-Britons
and, later, the Danes.
